


No One Mourns the Wicked

by iorekbyrnison



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mind Control, Rape, Suicide, Violence, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:00:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iorekbyrnison/pseuds/iorekbyrnison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His love was corrosive.Even if Rangiku Matsumoto had my heart, Aizen owned the rest of me. He left me unclothed in all but one thing: the hope that I might someday kill him. Can be SLASH. Aizen Gin contains mature themes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Mourns the Wicked

His love was corrosive. It ate away at my soul until I felt the only action left to me was to simply breath. I could never give it up, the feeling of suffocation slowly cutting away my life. It was sadistic, yes. It was masochistic, yes, but I could never give it away. I could never take it away.

Even if Rangiku Matsumoto had my heart, Aizen owned the rest of me. I remember that day, the day I saw the carnage for the first time. I remember the cruel gleam in Aizen's eyes and the desperation I felt to get away, to run to the never ending reaches of Seretei if only to keep Aizen from coming after me. Oh, but he came. He caught me before I could move whether by allusion or my own fear I did not know, but from that moment I was a flightless bird, a soulless actor trapped in a cage that was Aizen's grip upon my being.

I felt sorry for Rangiku. I felt her love for me and the impending doom of our time together. I felt my grip on her life slipping just as surely as she felt hers clinging on to me. I stayed to protect her, to protect them, but I was falling faster and faster, not in love, no, I could never love one such as Aizen, but in agony. I fell into Aizen like a meteor to the Earth and he took all that I ever had to give before ripping away the rest. He left me unclothed in all but one thing: the hope that I might someday kill him.

Ichigo Kurosaki amused me, but though he was powerful, I did not believe the young substitute shinigami could succeed where I had always failed. Aizen was too wily, too sure of himself to worry about a brawl with a man who barely knew first level kido. I died with the hope that I'd killed Aizen, but in the back of my head where I laid bare to him, every inch of me pleading for him to give up, to leave my being in peace, knew the truth. I could never truly kill him.

Somewhere along the way I'd learned to defer to Aizen for every decision. When I could act, when I could wait, when I could breath, everything was chosen according to Aizen's will. He'd stripped mine away with a vicious pleasure until I knew nothing more than his mad, untimely love eating away at my flesh, my eyes, and my heart that still held some feeble throbbing for Rangiku. I began to like the powerless feeling, despite my helpless attempts to the contrary, but Aizen beat me down, broke me, and then reformed me to his specifications. In the end, even though I tried so very hard to end the war, I was Aizen's man in the end. I was what he made me. I was no longer the Ichimaru that Rangiku loved. I was no longer me.

I was his forever and ever. Nobody even knew.


End file.
